


Mount Gilboa University: Where Everything Is Fine

by smkaplan



Category: Sefer Shmuel | Book of Samuel, תנ"ך | Tanakh
Genre: Additional warnings in individual chapter notes, Also basically everyone is Jewish, Alterate Universe - Invented Geography, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Basically no one is white because guess what they weren't!, Drama, Everyone Is Gay, Falling In Love, Gay lesbian bi pan trans nonbinary you name it we've got it, Geography is fake and nothing matters, Happy Ending, Judaism, Love at First Sight, M/M, Multi, Murder, Murder Mystery, Romance, University politics, Yeah we have it all, poc characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:42:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28497009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smkaplan/pseuds/smkaplan
Summary: Yonatan is starting his third year of college at Mount Gilboa University, and is expecting the year to be just like the last two: spent with his head buried in his books, trying to ignore his dad, aka the president of the university. Suddenly everything changes when he meets Daveed Hudson: confident, outgoing, and the love of his life. As the two begin their whirlwind romance, the whole school is shaken when news comes out that the student body president has apparently committed suicide- and Daveed is chosen to replace her. Will Daveed be able to work in peace with the less-than-supportive father of his new boyfriend? What *really* happened to the old student body president? And, most importantly, will Yonatan and Daveed get the happy ending they deserve?
Relationships: Batsheva/Uriah the Hittite, David | Dāūd/Yehonatan | Jonathan, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 7
Kudos: 5





	1. Love at First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! Welcome to one of the silliest things I have ever written: a college AU (loosely) based on the story of David and Jonathan (here Daveed and Yonatan) from the Book of Samuel/Sefer Shmu'el. Part romantic dramedy, part political intrigue, part murder mystery- they've got it all here at Mount Gilboa University: Where Everything Is Fine. We Promise.

There’s a guy in Yonatan’s biology lab staring straight at him. He is exceptionally, unfairly gorgeous.

Unfortunately, since Yonatan is a) taking a freshman bio class because he’s an idiot and b) taking the same bio class as his sister Michal because he’s an _idiot_ , she also notices.

Michal jabs him with her elbow from where he’s trying to hide his considerable height behind a row of Erlenmeyer flasks. “Yo-Yo, who’s the hottie making eyes at you?”

“He could be looking at you,” Yonatan grumbles. Its not an unfair assertion; at nineteen, Michal has finally grown out of her awkward teen body and starting dressing like a human being again. Even eschewing makeup, the rich brown skin and luscious black curls she shares with Yonatan attract most people’s attention at first glance. “And don’t call me that.”

“Don’t be dumb, Yo-Yo,” she says, ignoring him as usual. “We’re on opposite sides of the table.” She shoots the guy a flirty wave and his eyes noticeably flicker away from Yonatan and over to her before he smiles and waves back. Yonatan peeks back over the beakers to see the guy has turned back to his lab partner. He breathes a sigh of relief- and then keeps looking, as the guy shoots a perfect white grin at the girl across from him, running a hand through his lovely red-gold hair. The color is out of place paired with his dark skin, but if its dyed, its impossible to tell: even his eyebrows match.

Michal jabs him again. “Now you’re staring, dumbass!”

“Not staring,” Yonatan shoots back, only flushing a little. “Observing. Look, he’s talking to Avi,” he says, referring to the girl sitting across from their topic of conversation. “Do you think he knows her from debate?”

Michal snorts, lightly spraying him with the Red Bull he hadn’t noticed she was drinking, and which she definitely shouldn’t have at the lab table. “With that body? No way he’s a nerd.”

And so really, its Michal’s fault that Yonatan’s eyes start to travel down the length of the guy’s body. And ok— she has a point. The guy is short— even sitting, Yonatan can tell— but absolutely ripped, arm muscles bulging through his _very_ tight t-shirt. Yonatan looks further, and the sight of thick thighs barely covered by athletic shorts sends a literal shiver down his spine. “Fuck,” he murmurs.

“Right?”

“Ok, so he’s a jock,” Yonatan admits. “That’s worse.”

“Uh, the fact that he could crush you between his thighs is bad, why, exactly?”

Yonatan chokes on a breath, face burning. He glares at his sister who gazes back, absently chewing on one already short nail in the picture of innocence. “If anyone heard that, I swear I’m going to kill you.”

She sadly doesn’t look as threatened as she should. “This is getting boring, achi. You should just go talk to him.”

“Seriously, Michal, you _really_ think _that_ guy would be into me?” Yonatan glares down at his notebook, still mortified by the conversation he is for some reason having with his little sister. “Look at him. There’s no way he’s even into guys.’

“No offence, but your gaydar is shit, Yo-Yo.”

“My—!” He jerks his head up to yell at her— though he’s not entirely sure for what, as she’s not exactly _wrong_ — when he catches a hint of movement out of the corner of his eye. He shifts as subtly as he can to watch the guy stand up, stretch nonchalantly, and, against all odds, head towards their table.

And now that he’s standing Yonatan can tell just how short he is, at most 5’3” or 5’4” to Yonatan’s nearly 6’2”. And if that’s not enough to make Yonatan’s heart flutter— then the guy _speaks_.

“Hey, what’s up?” he says, and it’s enough to rouse even Michal from her work, because holy shit his voice is _beautiful_. Like, siren-song beautiful. Even those three short words are enough to make Yonatan’s breath catch in his throat.

“Hi,” Yonatan manages, casually leaning back against the lab table so he doesn’t literally fall over. His heart is doing backflips and he doesn’t even know the guy’s name.

The guy grins up at him, obviously very confident in himself. “I’m Daveed.”

Daveed. Fuck.

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck.

Michal grumbles something obviously insulting about Yonatan and reaches a fist across the table for Daveed to bump, which he does. Of course he does. “I’m Michal, and the beanpole is my brother Yonatan.”

Yonatan smiles down at Daveed, too struck by his new acquaintance to even notice Michal’s barb. He eases himself down onto a stool, hoping it looks cool and casual and not like he’s completely fucked up out of his mind for no goddamn reason. Michal gestures to the empty seat next to Yonatan and Daveed hops up, resting an elbow on the table. His knee settles a few inches from Yonatan’s thigh, and Yonatan has to force himself not to move, to keep the distance between them.

“What can we do you for, Daveed?” Michal drawls.

Yonatan’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he knows it’s from his sister, though he never saw her pull her phone out, much less type out and send a text. Girls could just do that sometimes. He chooses to ignore it, knowing with one hundred percent certainty that it’s Michal telling him not to make a complete fool of himself: helpful as always.

Daveed flashes her another grin. He seems to do that a lot. Up close, Yonatan can see that one of his front teeth is chipped, which only makes it more endearing.

“Turns out I’m shit at biology,” he admits, laughing a little at himself, “and Avi there isn’t much help. I was wondering if you guys could lend a hand? You look like you know what you’re doing.” He directs the last part at Michal (which is fair) and her eyes light up. It’s only the second week of her freshman year and she’s already being asked to show off.

“Sure! Do you and Avi wanna join us over here?”

Daveed shoots a thumbs up across the room at Avi, who grabs her notebook and glides over to join them. Yonatan has never been quite qure what to make of Avigayil, or Avi, as she insists on being referred to. They’ve been familiar for years, having gone to the same synagogue since they were kids, but he and Avi have always run in different circles. Despite his family’s wealth and relative status, Yonatan has never felt very comfortable with the more “popular” crowd, or really any other kids his age. He feels like such a cliche thinking of it, but he had always been the kid staying inside to read or talk to the teacher while the others went out to do whatever kids do when they aren’t being watched.

Avi, on the other hand, is almost universally beloved anywhere she goes. It isn’t undeserved: she’s smart, athletic, and even pretty nice. But she’s always had a certain coldness to her that makes Yonatan unwilling or unable to get too close.

Regardless, she’s a year younger than him and a year older than Michal, so they’d never been in the same Hebrew school class or anything like that. Idly, Yonatan wonders what she and Daveed are doing hanging out together.

Avi takes the seat next to the Michal, who holds out another characteristic fistbump for Avi. They settle in quickly, heads bent over Michal’s notes; no matter what Michal may or may not think of Avi, she grabs any opportunity to show off, especially to a pretty (not to mention openly gay) girl.

Yonatan expects Daveed to join their conversation, but instead he shifts to face Yonatan, resting his head in one hand and tilting it to one side like he’s studying him. Even so, Yonatan is startled when Daveed starts talking.

“Have we met before?” he asks, pursing his lips like the question is really weighing on him.

Yonatan quickly shakes his head: there’s no way he would’ve forgotten meeting Daveed.

“You’re not a freshman, are you?”

“No,” Yonatan admits sheepishly. “I’m a junior who put off getting my science credits too long and now it’s back to bite me in the ass.”

Davis tilts his head the other way. “That’s so strange. You look really familiar, I thought we might have met at orientation…” He trails off, his eyes growing big,

…And there it is.

“Wait, is President Ben-Ami your dad!?”

Yonatan groans. It had been nice while it lasted. It’s not that Yonatan doesn’t have friends, but the majority of the people he meet are either scared off by the thought of hanging out with a guy whose dad is president of the university and could therefore get them expelled, or, even worse, almost immediately start asking for favors— as if he has any power over what his dad does, good or bad. “Yup. The one and only.”

Daveed laughs. “Damn, that’s wild. So, you said you’re a junior, right? What’re you studying?”

Yonatan blinks down at him. That was… unexpected. “That’s it?” he blurts out before he can stop himself.

Daveed laughs again. “What, did you expect me to start kissing your ass so your dad will raise my Calculus grade?”

Apparently Yonatan’s silence is enough of an answer, because Daveed’s casual smile immediately melts. “No, really? Huh. That must suck.”

Yonatan’s stomach churns. “Really? You think so?”

Daveed shrugs. “I mean, I don’t mind getting my ass kissed now and then,” and actually _winks_ at him, “but people using me just to get to my dad sounds like it would be awful.”

“That’s… I appreciate that,” Yonatan manages. “Thanks.”

Daveed grins up at him like he’d never stopped. “Hey, no need to thank me. Anyways, I don’t need some bigshot to fix my Calculus grade when I’ve got big brains over here to help me.” He jerks a thumb at Avi who flips him off without looking up. Interesting.

“Wow, you two are that close already?” Yonatan asks curiously.

“Oh, yeah, we go way back. There’s actually a picture of her holding the knife at my bris,” Daveed deadpans.

“Stop lying, Daveed,” Avigayil tells him, somehow still writing out lab notes at the same time.

He just shrugs. “I stand by it.”

Yonatan raises his eyebrows, giving Daveed another once-over and trying, once again, not to linger. “You’re Jewish?”

Daveed runs a hand through his curls, which immediately bounce back into place. “Born and raised. You?”

Finally, here’s territory Yonatan feels comfortable in. “Notoriously so. I’ve never seen you at Beth Israel, does your family go to Shalom?”

“I’m actually from Bet-Lekhem,” Daveed explains, naming one of the smaller suburbs surrounding their larger city of Yerushalayim. “We belong to a synagogue out there, but honestly my parents have always been more Rosh Hashanah Jews than anything,” he continues, rolling his eyes. “I’d really like to get involved at Hillel, though, if you know anything about that.”

Yonatan bites his lip to keep himself from laughing. _This is going so much better than I could have predicted_ , he thinks. “You just so happen to be looking at the Hillel Religious and Cultural Chair,” he says proudly. He can feel Michal rolling her eyes from across the table.

“That’s so great!” Daveed exclaims, actually seeming excited. He pulls out his phone, taps a couple buttons, and hands it to Yonatan, who nearly drops it in surprise. He glances down to see a blank contact page and hesitantly types in his information.

“It’s cool if I text you, right?” Daveed asks, taking the phone back. He does something on it that Yonatan can’t quite see, even with his height advantage, then returns the phone to his pocket. He looks back up as Yonatan manages to realize that Daveed is asking him a question.

“Oh yeah, of course!” Yonatan tells him a bit too enthusiastically. He doesn’t really know how to proceed: this is the fastest a guy has ever asked for his number, by quite a significant factor. Luckily, Daveed fills the silence, something he seems to have no problem doing.

“So you’ve gotta be like, a religious studies major or something, right?”

Yonatan shakes his head regretfully. “Had to choose something more ‘practical’,” he explains, giving heavy air quotes on “practical,” to Daveed’s clear delight. “And you?”

“Music and English,” Daveed says triumphantly. “The two most ‘practical’ majors possible.”

Yonatan’s jaw might drop a little. Music… that makes sense with the voice, but this bold, muscular guy smirking at him is an _English major_?

Daveed catches his gaze, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not what you expected?” he asks, and Yonatan is feeling so strangely vulnerable that he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind:

“You’re just so ripped for an English major?”

Daveed throws back his head and lets out a deliciously rich laugh. He laughs until tears stream down his face. Yonatan’s face reddens and he buries it in his hands.

“HaShem save me,” he groans through his fingers. “I’m so sorry, holy shit.”

Daveed gasps, wiping away tears. “Yonatan, are you kidding? That’s the greatest thing anyone has ever said to me.” He grabs Yonatan’s hands and pulls them away from his face. The feeling of Daveed’s soft palms and calloused fingers wrapped around his hands is enough to momentarily distract him from his shame.

“You play guitar?” he asks stupidly, instinctually recognizing the specific pattern of callouses. Something very strange is happening to him.

Daveed smiles softly up at him. “And violin, bass, double bass, harp, piano, and a little percussion. And heartstrings,” he adds cheekily with a wink, long eyelashes fluttering. He’s still cradling Yonatan’s hands in his.

“That’s… that’s incredible.”

“A bit,” Daveed allows with a grin. “My real passion is writing and composing, but I’ve got a long way to go on that front. I also lift a little on the side, as I think you noticed, and I did cross country in high school, though I’m not sure if I’m gonna try out for the team here.” He releases his grip on Yonatan, who lets his hands fall loosely to his sides, and crosses his arms over his chest. “Now you know all about me, I think it’s only fair that you tell me about yourself.”

Yonatan opens his mouth to reply, or maybe to beg uninterestingness, when the TA announces that class is over and the students start streaming out of the classroom. Daveed looks legitimately sad that their conversation is getting cut off, full lips turning down at the corners. He pulls a scrap of paper out of his notebook, scribbles on it for a minute, and hands it over to Yonatan, who accepts it in silence. Michal finally takes her head out of her notebook and shoots Yonatan a look. He ignores her, glancing down at the paper to see a crudely drawn map.

“What’s this?”

Daveed bites his lip, twisting a curl around one finger. He seems suddenly… nervous? “I’m performing tomorrow night, at this bar called The Valley. It can be pretty hard to find if you’ve never been, so I drew a map, and I’ll text you some directions later too. I mean, if you wanna come. You can bring Michal, or, you know, whoever you want.”

Yonatan’s heart flutters and he shifts in his seat. “Wow, Daveed, that’s— I’d love to come, wow, thank you so much.”

Daveed’s eyes light up, golden eyelashes bright against his dark skin. He clasps Yonatan’s knee, leaning closer. “Thank _you_ ,” he says sincerely. Their eyes lock and Yonatan can feel prickles of heat where Daveed is touching his knee, even through his jeans. He shivers at Daveed’s intense gaze.

The tension breaks as Daveed hops out of his seat, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder and making some incomprehensible gesture at Avigayil. She nods to Michal and glides around the table (as she seems to do everywhere) to stand next to Daveed. He shoots double finger guns at the siblings, who return the gesture, Michal jubilantly and Yonatan with some hesitation. Avi just rolls her eyes, blowing a strand of hair out of her face.

“I assume we’ll be seeing you two tomorrow night?” she asks evenly. Michal turns to Yonatan, who just nods, still dumbstruck.

“Cool. See you,” she replies, and she and Daveed turn to leave, Daveed shooting one last grin over his shoulder. The siblings watch them go, leaving them alone in the empty classroom.

Michal punches him in the arm.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“He asked you out!” she squeals, beaming at him.

“Then why did you punch me?” He’s in too much pain to refute her claim, ridiculous as it is— at least, as it should be. Their parents should never have let her take kung fu lessons.

She shrugs, still beaming. “I’m so happy for you! He’s a total catch— Avi was just telling me what a total sweetheart he is.”

Yonatan glares at her. “You were just gossiping the whole time? What about the lab?!”

“Well, not the _entire_ time…”

Yonatan clutches his head. “You’re such a nightmare. I’m never going to pass this class.”

“And you’re a total stud!” she shoots back, unfazed. “It’s only the first week—”

“Of my third year—”

“And you’ve already landed a date with the hottest guy in the freshman class.” She stuffs her notes and books haphazardly into her bag and starts for the door, Yonatan trailing after her.

“Where are you going on your date, anyways?”

“We,” he corrects, “are going to see Daveed perform at some place called, uhh, the Valley, I think?” He glances down at the paper he still has gripped tightly in his fist.

Michal gasps, drawing stares from the other students in the hall. Yonatan tries to make himself smaller, to no avail.

“The Valley! I’ve been wanting to go _forever_ , but you’ve gotta be invited personally.” She sighs, clasping her hands over her heart. “And he asked you to watch him play! That’s so romantic!”

“He also asked _you_ to watch him play,” Yonatan reminds her.

“Psh, whatever. I’m just your plus one, doesn’t count.”

They exit into the crisp September air, blinking at the sudden brightness. The main science building borders the quad, and spread out in front of them are dozens of students relaxing on the grass and soaking up the last rays of sunshine before winter hits and it gets too cold and wet to spend time outdoors. Across the quad, they can still just barely see Daveed and Avi strolling across the grass in the direction of the dorms. Yonatan shades his eyes with one hand, squinting against the light to watch them go.

Michal looks up at him, cackling. “You are so _whipped_ , lover boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed the first chapter! I'm editing this all by myself, mostly because I'm just a *little* embarrassed to show it to anyone IRL, so please let me know if you see any mistakes! I also don't have the entire story written yet and I'm not the faster writer, so I won't exactly have a set posting schedule, but I'll try to get new chapters up as soon as I can!
> 
> Comments and kudos always very much appreciated! <3


	2. A Very Interesting First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daveed and Yonatan go on their first date! I'm sure absolutely nothing will go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for alcohol consumption, use of a homophobic slur, some non-graphic violence, and sexual references.

“Are you sure I don’t look like a _total_ fuckboy?”

Michal digs Yonatan’s hands out from where he’s been subconsciously sticking them in his jeans pockets. Not that he’s having much luck: the pants are much, much tighter than he’s used to. Michal had picked them out earlier in the day after dragging him through the mall until they found jeans that were satisfactorily tight and also fit his long legs. He’d manage to talk her out of the ripped jeans she’d originally picked out, but was unable to escape the black v-neck and leather jacket in which he is now clad. He stares at himself in the mirror, trying to stop himself from imagining Daveed and Avi laughing at him as soon as he walks into The Valley.

Michal smooths down an imaginary wrinkle in his shirt and meets his eyes in the mirror with a smirk. “You look more normal than you have in your entire life, Yo-Yo.” For her part, she looks flawless in leggings, a dark blue sleeveless tunic that falls to midthigh, and combat boots tied up with silver laces that complement her nose ring and simple חי necklace. Her long, thick hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, and she absentmindedly fiddles with a strand that’s come free. When Yonatan doesn’t return her snark, she frowns. “That was a compliment, achi. I’m just saying, no one’s gonna laugh at you. Anyways, you don’t have to worry about attracting Daveed’s attention. He’s already crazy about you.”

She spins out of the way before Yonatan can half-heartedly smack her. Though he has to admit that there may be some truth to her words: she and Avi had exchanged numbers the day before, and Michal had gleefully informed Yonatan that Daveed had spent all day nervously preparing for the date.

“Maybe he just gets stage fright,” Yonatan had retorted.

“He tested out _seven_ different colognes, Yonatan.”

…Which had only served to make Yonatan more nervous.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a loud honk from the street. He had begrudgingly agreed to let Michal’s best friend Batsheva tag along, as long as she acts as designated driver and keeps Michal out of trouble. Deep down, he knows Batsheva is capable of causing just as much trouble as she prevents, but he feels at least a smidge better knowing there’ll be another person there with his sister while whatever happens… happens. Batsheva honks again and Michal curses, swinging a denim jacket over her shoulder and tossing Yonatan a wadded up piece of red fabric. He unravels it to reveal a long, silky scarf; Michal twirls her finger impatiently, presumably gesturing for him to wind it around his neck. He’s only halfway done when she yanks him out the door and through the apartment, jamming the elevator button as Yonatan fumbles for his keys to lock the door behind them.

They finally make it downstairs and pile into Batsheva’s convertible, which truthfully is only meant for two people. Batsheva pulls Michal in for a hug and a peck on the cheek. They whisper together for a minute, leaving Yonatan to make himself as comfortable as he can with so little leg room.

Batsheva finally shoots him a look over Michal’s head. “Normally this would hurt my pride to say, but I owe you one for getting us into the Valley,” she says. “I’ve been absolutely _dying_ to go. This is really gonna up my street cred.”

Yonatan hadn’t thought people still said or cared about “street cred” but he nods in acknowledgement. Too late, he realizes he’d forgotten to buckle his seatbelt, as Batsheva checks her mirrors and slams on the gas, racing away from campus and towards downtown.

Mount Gilboa is a relatively small town, but with college students making up such a large percent of the population, it has no choice but to have a booming night life. Batsheva is eventually forced to slow down, to her great dismay, as she weaves her car through throngs of jaywalking twenty-somethings. She ends up having to park a good ten minute walk from the bar, though it ends up taking closer to twenty as Yonatan struggles to follow Daveed’s confusing directions and poorly drawn map. Really, what sane person would guess the fish was supposed to represent a park fountain and not the sushi place around the corner?

After a lot of second guessing, they end up in front of an unmarked door tucked in the middle of a dark alleyway.

“No _kidding_ this place is hard to find,” Yonatan huffs, pulling his scarf closer around his neck as the breeze stiffens, silently thanking Michal for making him wear it.

They stand awkwardly in front of the door for a minute, unsure what to do next.

“Daveed didn’t, uh… tell you what to do when we got here, did he?” Michal asks.

Yonatan claps a hand to his forehead, digging his phone out of one of his many jacket pockets. He groans when he finds the right message, “There’s a secret knock. Of course there is.” He steps up to the door, wincing as his fist hits the cold metal. Long, short-short-short, long, short-short.

Yonatan jumps back, almost bumping into Batsheva, as a previously unnoticed slit in the door opens up to reveal a pair of eyes.

“Names?”

Michal and Batsheva stare at Yonatan.

“Uh… Yonatan, Michal, and Batsheva?”

“We’re with Daveed and Avi,” Michal pipes up.

“Hmph.” The slit slams shut again. Luckily, the trio don’t have long to wait before the heavy metal swings open to reveal a tall, slender woman standing at the mouth of a long, dark hallway. She gestures them silently past her, giving each a once-over as they pass by, and slams the door shut behind them.

Their eyes adjust as they shuffle down the hall, the girls pressed tightly up against Yonatan’s sides. “Having second thoughts?” he murmurs to his sister.

Her teeth flash in the dim light as she grins. “Are you kidding?! This is so fucking cool!”

He looks down at Batsheva, who seems to be similarly thrilled. Well, at least some of them are having fun.

After what seems like forever but is only like, thirty seconds, they round the corner and finally enter The Valley. At first glance, its a pretty normal bar, albeit a bit cleaner and more enticing than the scarce few Yonatan has visited. There’s a small stage at one end of the room, on which a band is currently playing some slow classic rock song that has people swaying together around the room. There’s something about the couples that strikes Yonatan as unusual, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. And then he sees the drag queen tending bar.

Yonatan whirls on the girls, who are already heading towards the makeshift dance floor. “The Valley is a gay bar?” he asks in surprise.

Michal stares at him. “Yonatan…” she starts, then bursts out laughing, unable to contain herself, Batsheva doing the same.

Yonatan just crosses his arms, glowering, while Michal doubles over with mirth and Batsheva collapses into the nearest chair. “It wasn’t _that_ dumb of a question,” he grumbles, though he’s starting to connect the dots. Michal and Batsheva, both very openly queer, being so _specifically_ excited to get in… the fact that you had to be personally invited, presumably to keep out those who would disapprove of the clientele… 

Yonatan is tapping his foot impatiently, waiting out the girls’ mirth, when he blessedly spots Daveed and Avi across the room. His tension starts to melt as his new friend (?) catches his shy wave and comes bounding over, pulling Yonatan into a tight hug.

He can feel Daveed’s muscles flexing around him and heat pools in his gut. Fuck.

Daveed pulls back, hands sliding down Yonatan’s arms to take his hands in his. If he keeps being this tactile, Yonatan doesn’t know how he’s going to survive the night.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Daveed says, so sincere it makes Yonatan’s heart hurt. He turns to the girls, introducing himself to Batsheva while keeping one of Yonatan’s hands in his loose grip. Batsheva gives him an appreciative once-over, and though Yonatan feels an annoying pang of jealously he really can’t blame her: Daveed looks _good_ . He’s dressed completely different from the day before, strong legs barely contained in a pair of fishnets and tiny black denim shorts, while his carefully ripped black tank top reveals the arms that Yonatan had been admiring through his tee shirt (and much more). He’s wearing shiny gold heels that lift him up a good few inches (though he’s still significantly shorter than Yonatan) and he even has a hint of golden eye shadow dusting his eyelids that catches the light when he blinks. All in all, he looks incredible, and Yonatan is suddenly glad Michal had made him dress up a little. He wonders what sort of picture they make together: strong, bold Daveed in his heels and makeup, pressed up against Yonatan—who has never in his _life_ been able to pass for straight—in his leather jacket and the sneakers Michal hadn’t been able to bribe him out of. It makes him strangely happy, the way they contrast—and maybe even complement—each other. Or maybe its just that Daveed still hasn’t let go of his hand.

Eventually Batsheva has had enough of feeling Daveed’s muscles, who has been an incredibly good sport about it while Yonatan pretends not to notice, and she grabs Michal to drag her off to dance. Yonatan raises his eyebrows when Daveed shoots him an apologetic smile. “And I thought my comment yesterday was bad.”

“That’s just the price of being beautiful.”

They take a seat at the bar, Daveed finally letting go of Yonatan to pick up a menu. His hand feels cold and empty at the sudden loss.

“What’ll it be, chiquitas?” the bartender asks smoothly, sliding Yonatan another menu.

He leans over to Daveed. “Aren’t you like, eighteen?” he whispers. “She didn’t even card you. Or any of us, now that I think about it.”

“Almost nineteen, but don’t worry, they’re cool here,” Daveed replies, not bothering to lower his voice. “The city barely know this place exists, and management works very hard to keep it that way. Trust me, no one wants the cops barging in on orgy night.”

Yonatan chokes on a complimentary peanut and Daveed pats his back until he recovers, but makes no move to clarify or admit to fucking with him. Yonatan decides to drop it: there’s only so much he can take in one night.

After much deliberation, Daveed orders something called a Tropical Sunset, which arrives tall and orange and, when he offers Yonatan a sip, extremely sweet despite the menu claiming it contains an exorbitant amount of vodka. Yonatan gets a beer, which he feels only contributes to his image of an extremely lost or perhaps just extremely closeted straight guy. At least his jeans are tight. Daveed seems to agree—Yonatan has caught him sneaking more than one glance since they sat down, though he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

Yonatan has downed half his beer and is eyeing the shot the bartender had brought him with a wink, when Daveed turns to him. He places one hand on Yonatan’s knee and rests the other on the bar in a near-parallel to their conversation the day before in bio—even the stools they’re sitting on are remarkably similar. Despite the familiarity, Yonatan still manages to flush brightly.

“So—since we got interrupted yesterday, I’m still expecting your life story.” They had been sitting in a comfortable silence, but now Daveed grins up at him, attention laser-focused on Yonatan.

“I, uh… where should I start?”

His date—and Yonatan is not _so_ unaware that he can’t admit this is a date at this point—considers the question. “You seemed pretty unenthusiastic about your major yesterday: tell me about that. Or not,” he adds when Yonatan involuntarily winces. “We can do TV shows first, if that was too heavy.”

Normally Yonatan would agree, but he’s feeling that same strange sort of vulnerability he’d experienced yesterday: like Daveed can already see into his soul, so there’s no point in hiding anything from him. “No, no, it’s fine,” he assures him. “It’s not that long of a story, really: my father has high expectations for his oldest son, so business made the most sense.”

Daveed studies his face. “But you don’t enjoy it.”

Yonatan shrugs. “Does anyone _really_ enjoy getting a business degree? But, no, I really wanted to study history, maybe even religious studies—like you guessed—but my dad says he’s ‘known enough professors to know I’d never make it’”. He laughs, but Daveed doesn’t join in; he just watches him closely with a hard glint in his gaze that’s both scary and exhilarating.

“At least you still get to work at Hillel. It seems like you really enjoy it.” True to his word, Daveed had texted him after class to ask if there were any programs or services coming up that he could join. Though it had been a Friday, services wouldn’t start until the next week; instead, Yonatan had sent link after link to various groups and events, each of which Daveed had received enthusiastically.

“I really love it there,” Yonatan agrees, lighting up. “When I first started school, Hillel was one of the only places I felt comfortable. I don’t think I have to tell you that I don’t fit in with the other business students.”

Daveed lets out another bright, warm laugh, and Yonatan revels in being the cause of his delight.

“But honestly, besides classes and Hillel, I really don’t get out much. There’s not much to tell. But I’d really like to hear more abut your music!”

Daveed glances down at this phone lying on the bar, lifting it a little to check the time. “How about I do you one better than telling you about it?

Yonatan had been so entrenched in simply spending time with Daveed that he’d almost forgotten he was there for a specific reason. “Oh! Right! I’ve been so excited to hear you play.”

Something far too tender for a first date crosses Daveed’s face, and he gives Yonatan’s knee a tight squeeze. “Yonatan Ben-Ami, you are something else.” He hops off the stool and, as he passes Yonatan on his way to the stage, turns his head to press the hint of a kiss to Yonatan’s cheek.

Yonatan claps a hand to the spot as soon as he’s sure Daveed is out of sight, as if to hold the kiss in place. He turns back to the bar, entire face burning hot, to catch the bartender smirking at him.

“You’re gonna need that,” she drawls, gesturing to his untouched shot glass.

He takes the shot.

Someone taps on a mic and the sound fills the room. A short, stocky, ambiguously gendered person stands on the stage; Daveed is nowhere to be seen. “Good evening, girls and gays,” they say into the mic to a chorus of whoops. “I’m not one to waste much time on speeches, but for our newcomers, I’m Malchi, manager of this godforsaken place. I use they/them pronouns, but you’re more likely to yell for me to clean up someone’s puke than to refer to me in casual conversation. Anyways, enough of my bullshit.. Please welcome the man you’ve all been waiting for: Daveed ‘Sweet Nothings’ Hudson!”

Malchi steps off the stage as cheers fill the room, Yonatan clapping and whistling alongside them as Daveed enters, a guitar slung over his shoulders. He bows, clearly enjoying the praise, then raises his hands for quiet. The crowd immediately falls silent: every eye is trained on him. He pulls up a stool, adjusting the mic a little and clearing his throat.

“Thanks, Malchi. You’re too good to me, all of you.” He grins brightly, and someone whistles. “So, I have something a little special to start out with. Yesterday afternoon I was, well, struck with inspiration, and I’ve spent the last day feverishly working on this song. I haven’t even played it for Avi yet, so, here goes. Hope y’all enjoy.”

He plucks out a couple notes, then launches into a gentle, lilting melody that has Yonatan’s eyes misting and his stomach fluttering after only a few bars.

Then Daveed looks directly at Yonatan. And he starts to sing. In Hebrew.

_Oh, give me of the kisses of your mouth, for your love is more delightful than wine._

_Sweetness drops from your lips, honey and milk are under your tongue._

_How sweet is your love, my own, how much more delightful your love than wine!_

_You who shines through like the dawn, beautiful as the moon, radiant as the sun!_

_For now the winter is past, the rains are over and gone._

_Like a lily among thorns, so is my darling among men._

_You are a garden spring, a well of fresh water._

_Like an apple tree among trees of the forest, so is my beloved among men!_

_I delight to sit in his shade; his fruit is sweet to my mouth._

_For now the winter is past, the rains are over and gone._

_O you who linger in the garden, a lover is listening: let me hear your voice._

_When we meet, my beloved, I will tell you this: I am faint with love._

_O my dove, let me see your face, let me hear your voice!_

_My beloved, speak to me: “Arise, my darling; my fair one, come away!_

_For now the winter is past, the rains are over and gone._

_Every part of you is fair, my darling. There is no blemish in you._

_You have captured my heart, my own. You have captured my heart with one glance!_

_How fair you are, how beautiful! O Love, with all its rapture!_

_I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine. My beloved is mine and I am his._

Yonatan stifles a sob, feeling suddenly like he can’t catch his breath, yet unable to tear his eyes away. It should be arrogant to assume, but—the song is so clearly about him. Not just about him— _for_ him. Daveed is singing for him and it feels like his heart is being simultaneously torn apart and mended with the gentlest of touches. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this. He’s not good enough. He’s not _enough_.

The song ends and the crowd rises as one, Yonatan included, shouting and cheering. Daveed bows, acknowledging the praise, but keeps his eyes on Yonatan all the while.

Yonatan doesn’t know what the protocol is when someone pours their heart out for you in front of a crowd of people. The other patrons would probably love it if he rushed the stage right then and there, but instead he simply wipes his eyes and nods his head towards the exit. He gets up, assuring the bartender he’ll be back to pay his tab. She waves him off, simply telling him to “go get it”.

Thankfully catching his meaning, Daveed leans into the mic. “Sorry folks, ten minute intermission. Gotta, uh, take care of some business. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

The crowd whoops and jeers goodheartedly as he sets his guitar down and heads after Yonatan. If they’re surprised or bothered to see the entertainment leave after one song (albeit an incredible, showstopping song) Yonatan doesn’t stick around to find out.

The cool air outside the bar is welcome after the stuffy room, and Yonatan tugs his leather jacket tighter around himself. He only has to wait a minute before Daveed joins him, face flushed with exertion. He has a thin sweater pulled on over his tank top, though Yonatan imagines his legs must be freezing.

They stand together, breathing softly.

“That was—”

“I hope—”

They stop, and Daveed gestures for Yonatan to go first. He takes a deep breath, willing his nerves to relax. “Daveed, that was incredible. You’re incredible”. He takes a step closer, forcing Daveed to tilt his head further back to look up at him. “I don’t—this has never happened to me before, I honestly didn’t think this really happened at all, but I feel... “ he trails off.

Daveed’s eyes are impossibly big. He takes a step too, so their chests are almost touching. “I know. I feel it too.”

They don’t discuss it: it’s not necessary. Yonatan leans down as Daveed rises up on his toes, wrapping his arms around Yonatan’s shoulders. Yonatan’s hands drift down to rest on Daveed’s hips. He closes his eyes, leans in—and hears someone shout “fucking _fags_!” just before a fist smashes into the side of his head. He’s knocked out of Daveed’s arms, stumbling against the wall of the alley and sliding to the ground.

The next few minutes are a blur of pain as Yonatan struggles to keep his eyes open. Through the tears in his eyes he can make out two shapes, one huge and one tiny—Daveed. He wants to shout for Daveed to run, that even _he_ can’t fight off whatever honest-to-god giant is attacking him, but he can’t get his brain to form the words. The last thing he sees before his eyes slide shut is the giant lunging forward, fists swinging.

The next thing he knows, someone is shaking him awake. The movement jostles his head and he cries out.

“Shit, Yonatan—Yonatan, open your eyes, please, fuck…”

The person—Daveed?—shakes him again and he blinks, squinting through the sharp pain on the side of his head. “Daveed… what the _fuck_ happened?” He tries to climb to his feet but Daveed places a hand on each of his shoulders, easily holding him down.

“Yonatan, I need you to stay still, ok? I need to make sure you don’t have a concussion.” Daveed’s hands are still, but his voice is shaky.

“You—you know how to do that?”

Daveed nods, holding up one finger. “I need you to follow my finger with your eyes, ok? Don’t move your head.”

Yonatan doesn’t feel much like moving his head anyways. He manages to follow Daveed’s movements and Daveed breathes out a sigh of relief.

“Ok… you’re probably not concussed,” he says, sounding calmer. “Are you bleeding?” He reaches around to the side of Yonatan’s head, who winces as he prods at the sore spot just above and behind his ear.

“Shit, sorry. There’s some blood but it’s not… not too bad. You’ll be fine, you’ll just have a hell of a bruise tomorrow.” He shoots Yonatan a lopsided smile. “Some date, huh?”

Yonatan just looks at him. There’s a drop of blood on his cheek and Yonatan wipes it away with his thumb, showing Daveed the stain. “Are _you_ ok?”

“Oh, ha, yeah, I’m fine. That’s not mine.”

It’s not—Yonatan start. “Wait, what the fuck happened to that guy?” He looks around frantically and sees a huge figure sprawled on the ground twenty feet away. “Holy shit, _what_?”

Daveed shrugs. “I knocked him out. Probably broke his nose. Hence the, uh, blood. He’s not dead,” he adds hurriedly as Yonatan’s eyes widen. “And I called some friends from the club, told them some guy stumbled into the alley and passed out drunk, hit his head. They’re gonna drop him off at the hospital or something. I didn’t really ask.”

Yonatan just laughs incredulously. “I’m not worried about that guy, Daveed. I’m—you really knocked him out?! He’s at least twice your size!” His hand comes up to cup Daveed’s cheek where he’d just wiped away the blood. Daveed looks away.

“He could’ve killed you, Yonatan. I did what I had to do.”

“You—” Yonatan begins, trailing off at Daveed’s expression. “Daveed, look at me.” Yonatan places his other hand to mirror the first, cradling Daveed’s face in his hands. Daveed tentatively takes one of Yonatan’s wrists in his grip. His gaze flickers up to meet Yonatan’s. He looks… scared.

“Daveed,” Yonatan says gently, pain fading to the background as they stare at each other. “Do you think I’m upset with _you_?”

“I did just knock a guy out with my bare fists. It would be weirder if you weren’t a _little_ freaked out.”

Yonatan’s jaw drops. “Daveed, are you kidding? You just saved me from some crazy fucking homophobic behemoth! That’s the most remarkable thing anyone has ever done for me. Daveed, you’re _remarkable_.”

Even in the cold air, Yonatan can feel Daveed’s face heat up under his palms.

“Oh,” he all but whispers. “Ok.” And he leans in to press his lips against Yonatan’s.

The kiss is feather light, but Yonatan still sees fireworks bursting behind his eyes, not even realizing he’s closed them. 

Yonatan hears himself sigh when Daveed pulls back after just a moment. He tries to lean back in, but even Daveed’s single hand on his shoulder is enough to keep him in place. “Daveed…” he breathes.

Daveed presses a single finger to his lips. He gently peels Yonatan’s hands off his face.

“Not right now,” he says, sounding regretful. “You need to get some ice on your head, and I need to call Malchi from somewhere they can’t find me to kick my ass for skipping out on the gig. Anyways,” he says with a wry smile, “if I start kissing you the way I _want_ to, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop, and I don’t think it would be very romantic to get you off for the first time in a dark alley with an unconscious guy lying twenty feet away.”

Heat pools low in Yonatan’s gut and honestly that idea isn’t sounding half bad until he notices that Daveed is starting to shiver in his thin clothing. The sun has been down for hours and the temperature is steadily dropping. Without thinking twice, Yonatan peels off his jacket and wraps it around Daveed’s shoulder, wrapping his scarf around his neck too for good measure.

“Yonatan,” he protests immediately, “you’re injured, you should stay warm, I’m _fine_.” He tries to shrug off the jacket but Yonatan grabs the lapels, halting him. 

“I don’t have pneumonia, Daveed. I’ll be ok without it.”

Daveed starts to argue, but at that moment the door bangs open next to them and Michal, Avi, and Batsheva pour out. Batsheva lets out a dramatic shriek when she sees the guy lying prone on the ground. “Did y’all _kill_ someone!?”

Daveed swivels on his heels to face the girls and Yonatan takes the opportunity to push himself to his feet. Daveed jumps up after him, hovering like he thinks Yonatan is about to collapse. Honestly, Yonatan feels fine—as fine as one can feel after getting punched in the head—but Daveed’s attention is so comforting that he leans into him and lets Daveed wrap himself around one of his arms, Yonatan’s jacket hanging around his shoulders.

The girls, meanwhile, seem torn between gawking at the unconscious guy and smirking at the pair. Avi breaks the silence. “Having fun out here, boys?”

“Lots,” Yonatan deadpans.

She shrugs. “Cool. Batsheva, can I come with you two? I think Daveed is a bit busy, and he was my ride here.”

“Ooo, girls’ night at Batshevas!” Michal chimes in as they head towards the street.

“You owe me,” Michal whispers to Yonatan as she passes.

He spins to watch the trio leave. “You’re not even gonna ask what happened?” he calls after them.

“I know you’ll tell me eventually!” Michal replies as they round the corner.

Daveed bursts out laughing.

~~~

Turns out Daveed is parked in the staff lot on the other side of the building, which Yonatan greatly appreciates because, as the adrenaline fades, he’s starting to realize that getting nearly knocked out really takes it out of you. His head is starting to throb by the time Daveed gets him settled in the passenger seat and slumps behind the wheel. Yonatan glances sideways at him. “Are you sure you’re ok? You look exhausted.”

Daveed chuckles. “You might be surprised, but its not every day I both break a guy’s nose and admit to, um…” He trails off. Yonatan’s heart jumps in his chest.

“Should we, like, talk about this?” he asks cautiously. “What we… are? Or what we want to be?”

Daveed sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, we should, but—Yonatan, this is so new to me, and I still don’t completely understand what’s happening—”

“Daveed,” Yonatan says, taking his hand where it’s resting on the gearshift. “It’s ok, this is completely, totally new to me, too. I mean, I didn’t think it was even technically possible to—” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “To fall in love like this.”

Daveed shivers but says nothing, just gripping his hand tighter. Yonatan takes that as a good sign, barrelling on before his nerves can overwhelm him:

“We don’t have to talk yet. Right now all I want to do is take you home, kiss you senseless, and fall asleep next to you.”

Daveed snorts, but Yonatan can see a flush rising on his dark cheeks. “No making out until you’re better. I don’t need you passing out after I grab your head in a fit of passion.”

Yonatan rolls his eyes, leaning over to press a kiss to Daveed’s cheek. “Just be gentle with me,” he murmurs in his ear.

Daveed slams the key into the ignition with so much force Yonatan is surprised it doesn’t snap off in his fingers. “Buckle up. We don’t need you any more hurt than you already are.”

It turns out Daveed is as intense of a driver as Batsheva, though at least he slows down a _bit_ more around cops. He’s also driving with one hand, refusing to let go of Yonatan (not that Yonatan is complaining). They make it back to Yonatan’s apartment on the edge of campus in record time, Daveed taking turns almost as fast as Yonatan can direct him. They skid to a stop in front of the building and Yonatan releases his grip on the handle above the door, stretching his fingers. Daveed presses a kiss to his left hand, releasing it to climb out of the car. He crosses over to open Yonatan’s door, offering a hand like a very sexy chauffeur.

“Mr. Ben-Ami,” he says, and damn if Yonatan doesn’t like the sound of that.

He takes the offered hand and Daveed pulls him to his feet. This close, Yonatan can feel Daveed’s heart beating quicker as their eyes meet. “Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” Yonatan murmurs.

Daveed’s golden eyelashes flutter, catching the gleam of a streetlight. “I could stand to hear it again.”

Gently, oh so gently, he presses Yonatan back against the car door. He rises up on his toes, capturing Yonatan’s mouth in a slow, sensuous kiss. Yonatan gasps against his lips and Daveed takes the opportunity to press forward with his tongue, deepening the kiss while still keeping his motions slow and careful.

Yonatan groans, relishing every muscular inch of Daveed pressed up against him. “Fuck, Daveed, I think you’ve cured me,” he says breathlessly when they break apart. “Are you sure you don’t want to go into medicine?”

Daveed giggles, breath puffing against Yonatan’s lips. “I don’t think they usually let you kiss your patients, Yonatan.” He pulls back farther, leaving their entwined hands as the only point of contact between them. “Can we go inside? I really do want to get some ice on your head.”

“Ok, Dr. Hudson,” Yonatan laughs as Daveed leads him to the front door of the complex. It’s nothing fancy, being mostly inhabited by broke college students, but the management is nice enough and there haven’t been any cockroach sightings so far, which counts for something. Yonatan and Michal could’ve lived at home, of course, but both of them value their freedom and privacy more than having someone to cook and clean for them. Yonatan punches in a code on the keypad by the door and beckons Daveed inside.

They remain quiet as they take the elevator the short distance up to the third floor. Yonatan watches Daveed out of the corner of his eye: he still looks tired, but his expression is alert as he stares at the elevator doors in front of them, thumb absentmindedly rubbing the back of Yonatan’s hand.

Yonatan’s apartment is a blissfully short few feet from the elevator. He struggles a bit to pull out his key and unlock the door without being able to use his right hand. Daveed laughs softly under his breath but makes no move to help.

Inside, Yonatan flicks on the lights and Daveed whistles. “Man, not bad for a couple college students.” He pulls Yonatan into the living room where they both collapse on the plush L-shaped sectional. Daveed lays back, resting his head on the arm of the couch while Yonatan takes the foot of the L, turning on his side to look at him.

“My dad insisted on buying all our furniture,” Yonatan admits. “Not that I’m complaining. I know me and Michal are pretty lucky to have the lives we do.”

“Well hey, if you’re not complaining, I won’t either. Sure beats the shit out of the dorms.” Daveed bolts up suddenly. “Shit! Ice!” He sprints into the kitchen unnecessarily fast, returning holding a bag of frozen peas.

“You don’t have any ice packs,” he scoffs, tone at odds with the gentle way he presses the bag to Yonatan’s head.

Yonatan just stares up at him; he wants to protest, but the cold does feel pretty good, easing away the throb he’d barely noticed was still there. He breathes a sigh of relief, placing his hand over Daveed’s to feel the cold under his fingers. “Thank you.”

Daveed shrugs. “Totally selfish. We can’t do anything fun until you’re better,” he says with a wink.

“We could play checkers,” Yonatan says, feigning innocence. “Watch Family Feud. Lots of fun things we could do.”

“Yonatan, if you think _checkers_ is fun, I honestly don’t know what to tell you.”

Yonatan smirks. “Nothing to say about Family Feud?”

“Of course not,” Daveed scoffs. “I applied to be on the show a couple years ago, but they said seven siblings was too many and I didn’t know who to choose.”

Yonatan can’t help but laugh. He doesn’t know if Daveed is serious, about the application or number of siblings, but he figures he’ll find out eventually. He sits up, pulling Daveed to sit next to him. “There’s episodes on Netflix, if you want to watch something?”

Daveed grins, settling back into the cushions. “Ok, but just be warned, I’m _very_ good at guessing the answers.”

True to his word, Daveed guesses nearly every answer before the contestants, letting out a slightly subdued whoop every time.

Halfway through the third episode, Yonatan feels his eyes start to slide shut. His head had found its way into Daveed’s lap before the end of the first round, and Daveed has been running his fingers through Yonatan’s hair in an incredibly soothing fashion. “Daveed, I’m going to fall asleep on the couch if I don’t go to bed now,” he says through a yawn. “Are you coming?”

Daveed smiles softly down at him. “I would make a joke about… well, never mind. But yeah, I would love to.”

They trudge down the short hall to Yonatan’s bedroom. Yonatan shucks off his jeans with some difficulty, falling face first into the bed. Through the haze of oncoming sleep, he hears the soft sound of fabric hitting the floor, and feels the bed dip slightly as Daveed stretches out next to him. He’s conscious just long enough to hear to hear Daveed murmur “goodnight, ahuvi” before he drifts off into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Daveed sings is a chopped and screwed version of Song of Songs, aka me taking out all the parts about goats, fawns, pomegranates, etc. and rearranging it into a semblance of verses. 
> 
> The word he calls Yonatan at the end of the chapter, "ahuvi", means "my love" in Hebrew.
> 
> If it wasn't clear, the guy who Daveed fights is Golyat/Goliath, and Yonatan giving Daveed his jacket and scarf is supposed to parallel Yonatan giving him his clothes after the battle. Also, this takes place at *The Valley*, get it? Get it? I make myself laugh.
> 
> Also I absolutely live for the Michal-Avigayil-Batsheva friendship so look forward to that in later chapters! I also kind of combined the characters of Avigayil David's sister and Avigayil his wife, since I think it would be kind of confusing to have multiple characters with the same name (curse the authors of the Tanakh for not coming up with more names!) so in this they're just close childhood friends, not related but also totally platonic. Wow, I just realized that all three are married to David in canon, that's rough. Don't worry, none of that shit here.


	3. The Calm Before...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yonatan and Daveed spend one nice, lazy day together, before shit hits the- sorry, spoiler alert!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for some ~sexy~ times (though more references to the act than anything explicit) and references to homophobia

Yonatan wakes up mid-morning, stretching lazily out across his large bed as he comes to. His breath catches briefly when he finds the spot next to him empty, before he registers the sound of Daveed singing cheerfully (and beautifully) across the apartment and relaxes back into the soft sheets. He’s pretty confident—a strange feeling for him—that Daveed isn’t planning to leave just yet, so he fumbles on the nightstand for his phone before remembering he’d left it in the pocket of his jeans the night before. He rolls gracelessly off the bed, scooping his jeans off the floor and retrieving his phone before tossing the pants in the direction of his hamper. He heads to the bathroom, holding the phone close to his face while the haze of sleep dissipates. Unsurprisingly, there are quite a lot of messages from Michal. Yonatan opens their text thread, sees that the last few messages are just alternating eggplant and peach emojis, and hits the call button instead.

Michal picks up on the second ring, which he honestly hadn’t expected seeing as it’s still before noon on a Sunday. “Yo-Yo, achi, you did it!” she shouts into the phone. Yonatan suddenly considers that she might not have actually gone to sleep the night before.

“You sound excited,” he says dryly, pulling the phone farther from his ear.

“You took an extremely hot guy who’s  _ extremely _ into you home last night, why wouldn’t I be excited!?”

Yonatan smiles in delight. “I did, didn’t I? Though, not that it’s your business, ‘cause it’s  _ really _ not, but nothing really, uh… happened, last night.”

His sister just scoffs. “Jeez, bro, I’d expect that from you normally, but you really had  _ that man _ in your bed and did  _ nothing _ about it?”

“Well, I was semi-concussed, thanks for asking. Anyways, how do you know he slept in my bed? Maybe I gave him your room.”

He can feel her roll her eyes through the phone. “You may be a prude, but you’re not  _ that _ much of an idiot. Besides, I locked my door before we went out.”

“I’m not—whatever.” Yonatan presses his fingers to the side of his head. It’s definitely bruised, but at least his head no longer throbs whenever he moves. “Anyways, my head is feeling better—again, you know, thanks for asking—so I’m probably gonna go eat sushi off Daveed’s naked body or something.” He cringes immediately, still really not wanting to get his sister involved in his sex life, hyperbolic or otherwise.

“I would tell you not to be gross but at this point I just really need you to get laid so you’ll stop being so mopey all the time. It would really make my life a lot easier. And we keep running out of hand cream.”

“We do  _ not _ —! I’m hanging up now.” Yonatan jams his finger on the “end call” button, though not soon enough to miss the faint “bye, lover boy!” He really hopes that name isn’t going to stick.

Setting his phone aside, Yonatan considers himself in the bathroom mirror: his curls are sleep-ruffled, though not unattractively, and he’s still wearing the too-expensive black t-shirt Michal had forced him to buy just the day before. His boxer briefs are also uncomfortably—and noticeably—tight. After he brushes his teeth and uses some of his just-in-case mouthwash, Yonatan grabs a pair of sweatpants from his dresser, though it does little to hide the problem.  _ Ah well _ , he thinks to himself. After the way they’d been talking last night, he has a feeling Daveed won’t mind all that much.

Yonatan wanders into the kitchen where he can still hear Daveed singing to himself, stopping short as he takes in the scene before him. Daveed is standing next to the stove, mixing a bowl of batter while a pan of eggs sizzles merrily on one burner. He’s also wearing Yonatan’s “Gently High-Five The Chef” apron over what looks a borrowed pair of boxers—and little else.

Daveed looks up as Yonatan enters, face lighting up as he sees him. “Morning!” he says cheerfully. “I don’t know how you like your eggs, but hopefully the pancakes will make up for any inconvenience.”

Yonatan leans against the doorframe, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. He had really not been expecting this level of—domesticity?—from Daveed. He’d already seen cool jock Daveed in bio, and sexy gender nonconforming Daveed at The Valley; how many layers can he possibly have?

“Don’t people usually sleep with you  _ before  _ they start cooking you breakfast?” Yonatan chokes out, hoping it sounds more casual than he feels (i.e. not at all).

Daveed grins, returning his gaze to his eggs while he flips them perfectly. “Well, technically we  _ did  _ sleep together last night. And anyways, we also confessed our love on the first date, so I figured I could be a little unorthodox with the order of things.”

Before Yonatan can process that—because yeah, they basically did, but it’s different hearing it said out loud in the light of day—Daveed deliberately slides the pan off the burner, flicking off the heat. “Plus, if your head is feeling better, I thought I could… remedy that.”

The look he gives Yonatan is intense, his lashes lowering slightly to frame his dark eyes. Yonatan gulps.

“Remedy…?”

Daveed’s gaze flickers downwards. Everything he does is so precise; Yonatan feels pinned to the spot.

“That we haven’t gotten to do anything ‘fun’ yet,” Daveed says, coming forward to gently maneuver Yonatan until he’s pressed back against the nearest counter.

“My head is fine,” Yonatan blurts out before he has time to second-guess himself.

Daveed smiles slyly. “Oh, thank God. I’d really hate to have to cock-block myself again.” And then he sinks to his knees.

~~~

When Yonatan can breathe again, he pulls Daveed to his feet, leaning in to kiss him roughly. Daveed’s mouth falls open immediately, letting Yonatan taste himself on Daveed’s tongue. They break apart after what feels like forever. Daveed rests his cheek on Yonatan’s shoulder, Yonatan running a gentle hand through his thick curls.

“That was incredible,” he pants. “Are you just an expert at everything?”

Daveed laughs, muffled in the soft fabric of Yonatan’s shirt. “I wasn’t—well, wasn’t  _ just _ using that lab as an excuse to talk to you. I really am awful at biology.”

“I’d say you’re quite knowledgeable about biology, actually.”

Daveed snickers. “That’s got to be the worst line I’ve ever heard.”

Yonatan shrugs with his free shoulder, laughing along with him. “This is who you’ve fallen for. I don’t know what to tell you.” He trails the hand in Daveed’s hair down his neck, making him shiver. “Wait, shit, can I, uh, return the favor? It feels unfair that I get an incredible orgasm and you just have to stand here listening to my dumb jokes.”

Yonatan feels Daveed’s skin flush under his wandering hand. “That’s… not necessary,” he admits.

Yonatan’s eyes widen. He’d been too caught up in his own bliss to notice that Daveed had, apparently, been getting himself off while he went down on Yonatan. The thought makes him twitch in his pants, against all odds. “Fuck… Daveed, I think we need to finish making those pancakes or breakfast is going to turn into lunch.”

They do manage to finish cooking, only stopping once (or twice) to make out against the fridge, and finally get settled at the small kitchen table to eat. Daveed is still mostly naked—despite excusing himself to borrow another pair of Yonatan’s underwear—and Yonatan had already managed to lose his recently-acquired sweatpants. Their bare legs tangle together under the table as Yonatan takes a bite of pancake, moaning as it hits his tongue.

“This pancake might actually be better than the sex,” he says, eyes sliding shut.

“I guess the next time will just have to be even better,” Daveed replies, sliding his foot delicately along Yonatan’s calf. Yonatan almost chokes on his pancake.

“Can’t I at least finish my breakfast in peace?” he asks. Daveed cocks his head like he’s considering the question.

“Mmm, I could let you do that.” He continues caressing Yonatan’s leg. “Or I could suck you off under the table right now.”

Yonatan pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth, face flushing. “That’s a very, mmm, appealing offer,” he murmurs. “But I also want to, uh, get to reciprocate next time?”

Daveed smirks. “Alright, Yonatan, I can work with that.” He presses his legs more firmly against Yonatan’s, the touch more grounding now than arousing.

They sit in a comfortable silence, eating their food. The eggs are, it turns out, exactly how Yonatan likes them: over-easy, with a perfectly liquid yellow, and flecked with ground black pepper.

All of a sudden, Yonatan realizes that he feels more at ease right now than he has in a long time—or possibly ever. Even with Michal, who he’s known his entire life and is closer to than anyone else in the world, he still feels like he has to be in big brother mode with her. Even though knows she can take of herself and that’s she’s grown into a strong, smart young woman who he’s incredibly proud of, he still feels like it’s his responsibility to protect her from the world. But with Daveed, he feels like he can be completely himself. It’s not something he’s ever felt before, and that frightens him a little, but it excites him too. He feels… he feels like he’s home.

“Are you out to your family?”

“What?” Yonatan is startled from his thoughts.

“Sorry,” Daveed smiles. “I was just wondering, are you out to your family?”

“Oh. Not… exactly.” His mouth quirks, not sure how much Daveed wants to hear. Daveed gives him an encouraging smile.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he says, as if he can read Yonatan’s thoughts. Maybe he can. “But, Yonatan… I want to know everything about you that you’ll share with me. And I want to share everything about myself with you.”

Yonatan’s stomach flutters. “I think they’ve always kind of known,” he explains. “It’s kind of hard not to.”

Daveed laughs. “I hate to say it, but I see your point.”

“But my dad, he just…” Yonatan struggles to find the words. “I told you about my major. He’s always kind of, you know, wanted me to carry on his legacy. Find a nice woman to settle down with, make a bunch more little Ben-Amis. And I’ve never had the heart to tell him that that isn’t going to happen.” He shovels another delicious bite of pancake into his mouth to hide the clench of anxiety in his gut.

Daveed takes his free hand, rubbing small circles into his palm as he’s somehow already discovered calms Yonatan down. “And your mom?” he prompts gently.

“I tried to talk to her about it once, but she, well, she basically told me that the whole gay thing is just a phase, and that she wouldn’t believe it until I brought a guy home. Which she also implied I probably shouldn’t do regardless.”

“Fuck,” Daveed says, grimacing. “Fuck that. Fuck them. Didn't you ever have the urge to bring a boyfriend home, just to spite them?”

“Sometimes when my dad was out of town for business, I thought about asking a friend to pretend we were dating,” Yonatan sighs. “But it always felt like too much work. And my mom would probably have told him anyways.”

“Wait, why didn’t you just—” Daveed freezes. “Yonatan, you’ve, like, dated before, right?”

Yonatan winces. “Not long-term. I’ve been on dates, had, uh, hookups, but I’ve never found anyone I really wanted to be with. Not… not like this.”

Daveed’s eyes are impossibly wide. “I, I didn’t think—this isn’t just you—fuck, I’m sorry, we should’ve talked about this before—”

“Daveed, stop,” Yonatan cuts him off, grabbing his other hand so they’re fully connected. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not just—I know what I’m feeling right now. I don’t need anything to compare it to in order to know that.”

Daveed seems to relax a little at that, taking a shaky breath. “Sorry. I know. I trust you. I just… I really, really don’t want to hurt you.” His eyes are shining with emotion, and Yonatan just wants to curl the two of them up in a blanket together and never leave.

“You won’t,” he says firmly. “I trust you too. So much.” He leans across the table, pressing a soft kiss to Daveed’s lips.

“Thank you. For trusting me. It feels good.” Daveed takes a breath, deeper this time. “You should know, I’ve done a lot of dating, with people of all genders. Slept with more than a few, too. So if that bothers you, that I’m more experienced…” He trails off as Yonatan breaks into a grin. “Bothered? Not in a million years. Intimidated? Yeah, maybe a little. But wow, if you let me know who taught you those tricks you pulled earlier, I’ll thank them myself.”

Daveed grins too, relieved. “That’s  _ very  _ kind of you, I’m sure they’d appreciate it. And you’ll be happy to hear there’s plenty more where those came from.”

Yonatan laughs around his last bite of food. “You’ll just have to show me, then, huh?” He stands, leaving the dishes scattered on the table. “I think I’m going to take a nice, long shower now… if you’d care to join me?”

Daveed doesn’t hesitate.

They spend the rest of the day in a blissful mix of sex and pillow talk, slowly learning every detail of each other, body and mind. It turns out that Daveed is quite unrepentantly dominant, which Yonatan is more than happy to accept. Unfortunately, Yonatan doesn’t have any lube on hand (there may have been  _ some  _ truth in what Michal had said about the hand cream) and neither feels like getting out of bed long enough to run to the drugstore. Instead, they make do with hands and mouths, instruments at which Daveed continuously proves himself to be quite talented, and Yonatan really not half bad.

In between rounds, Yonatan learns that Daveed really does have seven siblings. Some of them are half siblings, and most are a lot older than him, but he’s still close to all of them. He’s the youngest, a surprise when his mother thought she couldn’t have any more kids, and so was raised more by his only sister, Tzruya, than his busy and aging parents. His parents Yishai and Nitzevet both work at the university, and most of his older siblings are in academia at various institutions around the world. His oldest brother, Eliav, works at Hebrew University in Jerusalem, where Daveed had spent the last year running wild and free.

“And they just  _ let _ you  _ go _ ?” Yonatan asks incredulously. They’re sprawled out across his bed, a mostly empty pizza box lying between them. “Like, with no supervision?”

“Technically Eliav was  _ supposed _ to be supervising me, but he has his own kids now and was way too busy to worry about his eighteen-year-old brother,” Daveed laughs. “It was the best year of my life. One day, we’ll have to go together. See the sites. Not that I’ll need to show you around or anything.”

He’s right: Yonatan’s parents Sha’ul and Ahinoam are both Israeli, and he has Israeli dual citizenship, so he’s been more times than he can count. But the thought of going with Daveed—of making their own memories in his homeland, together—sounds too good for words.

“I’d like that,” Yonatan says simply. “I’d really like that.”

The hours pass peacefully, and before they know it it’s past midnight. They lie together in the dark, Daveed’s head resting on Yonatan’s chest.

“I can’t believe we have to go to class tomorrow,” Daveed sighs. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

“Me too,” Yonatan agrees. “Hey, um, we haven’t really talked about what this… is, I guess? Do we just tell people that we’re dating, or…”

“Well, saying ‘this is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with’ might freak people out a little,” Daveed laughs, “so I think dating is fine. We’re boyfriends, and we see where we go from there, yeah?”

“Boyfriends,” Yonatan repeats, musing. “I like the sound of that.”

“I do too,” Daveed says, twisting in his arms to kiss him soundly.

“Oh,” Yonatan says when they stop to breathe. “There was something I meant to ask last night, about your song.”

“Ahh, yeah. To be honest, if I’d known you were fluent in Hebrew when I wrote it, I would’ve turned the intensity down, like, a  _ lot _ .”

“No, no, it was perfect,” Yonatan assures him. “I just had a question about one of the lines.”

“Oh yeah?” Daveed asks, perking up. “Which one?”

“When you called—uh, when you said ‘my dove’,” Yonatan explains. “The word, ‘yonati’, was that… intentional?”

Daveed laughs. “Do you want it to be?”

Yonatan just glares at him, though he knows Daveed can see right through it. “Daveed, that’s not an answer.”

“Heh, in that case, yeah,” Daveed says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not usually that sentimental—well, no, I am. But the imagery, the symbolism, it just stuck with me.”

“The symbolism?” Yonatan asks curiously.

“Yeah, you know: hope, peace, all that good stuff. Meeting you, spending time with you, I feel… more at peace than I have in a long time.”

Yonatan is silent for a long minute. Everything Daveed says is exactly what he himself has been feeling. He can still hardly believe that this is real life; if it  _ is  _ a dream, he never wants to wake up. “Yonati,” he says finally. “It’s good.”

“Yeah?” Daveed asks, looking up at him. He sounds almost anxious, as if Yonatan doesn’t love every word that comes out of his mouth.

“Yeah,” Yonatan confirms.

Daveed snuggles in closer to his side. “I’m glad. My dove.”

Yonatan feels a shiver run through him at the words. “You’re a wonder, Daveed Hudson.”

“Mhm,” Daveed mumbles. He says something else, muffled against Yonatan’s chest.

“Hm?”

“Now you need a sappy pet name for me too,” he repeats, lifting his head.

“I mean, I can try, but I’m no poet,” Yonatan chuckles. He thinks for a minute, then asks: “you know the root of Daveed in Hebrew, right?”

“Mmm, can’t remember, you tell me,” Daveed murmurs. He sounds half asleep.

“Daled-vav-daled,” Yonatan supplies, staring up at the ceiling. “Means beloved.”

“Oh…” Daveed whispers. “That’s really nice.”

“Yeah, it is,” Yonatan agrees. His heart is so full of emotion he feels like he could run a mile, but the warm body pressed against his side manages to calm his racing thoughts, pulling him towards sleep. He presses a kiss to the top of Daveed’s head. “Sleep well, Dodi.”

“Night, Yonati. Love you.”

“Wow. Yeah. I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dodi means "my beloved" as in the phrase "I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine" (it also means "my uncle" which is unfortunate, but what can you do?). It has the same root as David, you just don't get the V sound because it turns into a vowel (Hebrew can be complicated like that haha). Also Daveed definitely did remember and definitely just wanted Yonatan to tell him :3
> 
> Daveed: I was so caught up in the euphoria of writing epic love poetry that for a minute I lived in a world where other Hebrew speakers didn't exist
> 
> Oh also I should probably explain lmao, these characters don't live in Israel, even though all of their towns are named after places in Israel. My headcanon (hahaha) is that a group of Jews settled in North America when the original colonies were being established and named all of the towns after Tanakhic locations, which then became part of the US after the American Revolution. But also, this is totally not relevant to the story, so feel free to disregard. Basically, this area where the characters live is majority Jewish and someplace in the northeast United States.
> 
> Sidenote: I'm not good at writing about sex, so sorry that some of this definitely came off awkward!


	4. The Plot Thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting... complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a thicc chapter, but there's a lot of important exposition to get through!
> 
> TWs for discussions of murder, suicide, and sexual assault, as well as some very vague sexual references

Yonatan and Daveed are sitting on the couch eating cereal and watching Family Feud when Michal walks in—and screams.

“Yonatan Matri Ben-Ami, are you sitting ass naked on my couch?!” she shouts as Yonatan and Daveed scramble to make themselves vaguely decent. Michal covers her eyes with both hands. “Oh my god, I hate you so much—I mean good job, I’m proud of you—but what the fuck!!”

“Shit, sorry, I’m so sorry,” Yonatan says, almost tripping over himself as he pulls on his sweatpants. He grabs a blanket to cover his torso and throws another to Daveed to do the same; he’s pretty sure they had never actually put on shirts that morning.

Michal just groans. “Jeez, akhi, didn’t you get my texts?”

“Uh… which texts, exactly?”

“Hmm, I dunno, the ones telling you I’d be back by ten and you’d better not be doing anything nasty when I got back?”

“Oh. Then no, I didn’t.”

“Technically we weren’t _doing_ anything nasty,” Daveed pipes in, mostly unhelpfully.

“I would argue that rubbing your naked bodies all over _my_ couch is nasty in and of itself, but I really don’t want to think about this anymore.” She drops her bag by the door and kicks off her shoes, crossing over to gingerly take a seat on the part of the couch Yonatan and Daveed hadn't been occupying. “Are you guys seriously watching Family Feud? Don’t you have class?”

Daveed falls back onto the couch next to her, leaving Yonatan hovering awkwardly in the middle of the room. “Not until noon,” he answers, propping his feet up on the coffee table and returning to his bowl of cereal.

Yonatan looks back and forth between the two, feeling suddenly out of his depth with these two headstrong personalities sitting together in his living room. “Uh… Michal, have you been at Batsheva’s this whole time?”

She grabs Yonatan’s cereal and takes a bite, answering with her mouth full. “Spent last night at Avi’s, which you’d _know_ if you checked your phone.”

He winces. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve been… preoccupied.” He glances at Daveed, who’s quietly eating his cereal with a smug expression on his face.

“Yeah, I’m sure you have,” Michal snorts. “Avi quite graciously let me stay over after receiving some rather, mmm, _descriptive_ texts from your new boy-toy.”

“Daveed!” Yonatan exclaims. Daveed shoots him a guilty look.

“Sorry, babe. I promise they weren’t that bad. Trust me, I can be _much_ more explicit.”

“God, seriously, stop! Also, ‘babe’, really? You’re at ‘babe’ already?”

Yonatan flushes. “Ah… yeah… I should probably, uh…” He trails off, unsure exactly how one is supposed to tell his little sister that he's in mutual love with a guy he met three days ago. Instead, he just stares down at Michal, who has her eyebrows quirked at him.

Luckily he’s saved by Daveed standing up to wrap an arm around him, pressing against his side. Daveed’s presence immediately relaxes him; he knows how he feels.

“Things are good,” Yonatan says simply. “I know it’s a little weird, but we just… fit.”

Michal’s mouth falls open. “Oh my god… Yo-Yo… you’re in love!” She looks like she’s about to cry as she jumps up to pull the two of them into a hug.

“Wait—you’re not gonna tell me I’m out of my mind?” Yonatan asks in surprise. Daveed shoves him playfully.

“Don’t give her any ideas. I’m pretty sure she could and would kick my ass if she thinks I’m hurting you.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Michal says, muffled against Yonatan’s makeshift shawl. She pulls back and sure enough, her eyes are wet. “I’m just so happy for you, bro.” She shoves a finger into Daveed’s chest. “But seriously, do _not_ fuck this up.”

Yonatan expects him to laugh, but instead he looks back at her, deadly serious. “I promise, I will never hurt him,” he says, one hundred percent sincere. Yonatan gulps and pulls his boyfriend in tighter.

Michal smiles brightly, wiping her eyes. “You’re gonna be good for him, I can tell.”

She spends the next hour grilling Daveed about his life, Yonatan feeling warmth shoot through him every time he already knows the answer to a question. After only a day together, he already feels that he knows Daveed like they've been friends for years.

Before they know it, it’s almost noon. Happily, their first class of the day is their biology lecture, so the trio walks across campus together, meeting up with Avigayil outside the science building and finding four seats together at the back of the lecture hall.

The class schedule includes lectures on Mondays and Wednesdays and a lab on Fridays; the lectures have over 200 students, while labs are split up into groups of twenty, explaining why Daveed and Yonatan hadn’t met until the first lab day, on the Friday of their second week.

As the group enters the lecture hall, the room seems strangely charged. Normally at this time, five minutes before class starts, students would be chattering with friends or rushing to get their homework finished before the TAs came around to collect it. Today, the room is a mass of whispers, the bulk of the students looking at their phones and leaning over to murmur to each other. The friends take their seats, looking around curiously.

“Did something happen?” Yonatan asks Michal, who shrugs and looks at Avigayil.

“I haven’t checked the news yet. Avi?”

She frowns. “I’m not sure. I saw some odd Slack messages from the debate team this morning, but I haven’t had time to investigate any further.”

Yonatan pulls out his phone, freezing when he sees the top email notification. “There’s an email to the entire school. From Dad.”

Next to him, Michal sucks in a breath. “What does it say?”

With trembling fingers, Yonatan opens the email and scans it as best as he can. He has to read through it another four times before he can fully comprehend what he’s read. “Oh my god. Aggie is dead.”

Avigayil’s eyes widen. “Aggie _Malik_?” she asks in disbelief. Yonatan nods slowly, passing his phone over to her. She reads through the email, hand coming up to cover her mouth in an uncharacteristic loss of her usual composure.

Daveed leans forward to look over at Michal. “Who’s that?” he mouths. She shrugs again, snapping forward as the professor walks in.

“Quiet, please,” he says, turning on the microphone. He looks especially somber, and he is not normally a perky man. “I’m sure you have all heard the news by now, but our student body president, Ms. Agatha Malik, was found dead in her home early this morning. Police responded to an anonymous call and, after a thorough investigation, have ruled it a suicide. You will be receiving further communications from the university soon, but I will ask you to refrain from discussion—or speculation—until class is over.”

Unsurprisingly, the room immediately bursts into noise. “Aggie would never kill herself,” one person says loudly to their neighbor. Across the room, someone shouts “how could they have done a thorough investigation since this morning?” A third mutters something about “President Ben-Ami” and Yonatan’s blood runs cold.

“I need some air,” he mumbles, grabbing his backpack. Michal shoots him a look of concern but stays silent, scooting over to sit next to Avi as Daveed stands to follow Yonatan.

Outside on the quad, Yonatan leans back against a wall, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“Yonati, dove, are you alright?” Daveed chews on his lip, looking down at the already infamous email on his phone. “Were you two friends?”

“Mmm, no.” Yonatan sighs. “It’s just, complicated. I don’t—didn’t know her personally, but everyone knows _about_ her. Her campaign last spring drew a lot of attention; she promised a lot—including things that the board definitely wasn't willing to concede on. Made my dad’s life hell this summer.” He takes a deep breath. “Maybe the pressure just got to her… everyone was expecting a lot this semester.”

“Right, I remember now, she gave a speech at freshman kickoff a few weeks ago. She seemed so excited to be there. I wonder what happened.”

They stand in tense silence, Daveed frowning down at his phone.

“The news is already all over MGU Twitter. People are going wild.” He holds up a tweet thread for Yonatan to read. It says:

“Holy shit, Philippa really posted that?”

“Philippa Stone? Yup.” Daveed nods. “I honestly didn’t think student government was that important, but this is intense.”

Yonatan rubs his temples. He can feel a headache forming. “We’re not going back to class, right?”

“Psh, of course not.”

“Alrighty then.” Yonatan steps away from the wall into the sunlight, setting his backpack down in the grass and sprawling out next to it. He peers up at Daveed, shading his eyes with one hand. “Come on, I’ll explain.”

Daveed reclines back against him, pillowing his head on Yonatan’s thigh. He absentmindedly plucks at a stalk of grass. “Kay, go for it.”

“Ok, first off, I really wasn’t involved in any of this. I’m _just_ telling you what I’ve heard.”

“Mhm," Daveed hums. "Whatever, just tell me what's going on!"

Yonatan sighs. “Yeah, yeah. Right, so: Aggie and Philippa used be dedicated sorority girls. Kappa Nu Nu, I think?” He frowns. “I can never remember all those frat names, everyone just called them the ‘Kappas’. But those two were like, _way_ into Greek life. Philippa was the, uh, basically the president of her sorority—I have no idea what it’s called—and Aggie was some sort of activities director?”

“Huh,” Daveed says, “those don't sound like the type of people who'd be this serious about student government. What happened? Also, wait, are you talking about the Kappas in past tense?"

Yonatan shushes him. “Just listen, I’m getting there. Anyways, the Kappas had a brother frat called Tau Sigma Rho, the ‘Taus’, and every year they threw a huge party together right before spring break. It’s _always_ beach-themed, which feels uncreative, but whatever.”

“And you were there, of course.” Daveed teases.

“Ha ha, very funny. You have to be in Greek life to even have a _chance_ of getting in. But there’s always _tons_ of photos on social media; even though they’re not technically supposed to share what goes on there with outsiders, of course they do anyways.”

Daveed raises his eyebrows. “Wait, they can't share pictures of the party? That’s kinda fishy, huh?”

“Well, yeah, we’ll get there too,” Yonatan assures him. “It always looks pretty wild: everyone comes in their scantiest beach wear, gets absolutely trashed on pina coladas, that sort of thing. But then something weird happened, and this is where it starts getting pretty dark. In the background of one of the leaked photos, you could see a couple guys like, straight up carrying Philippa between them, and she’s clearly passed out.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Someone showed Philippa the picture and I guess she was like, 'oh my god, that’s why I don’t remember half the party, and why I woke up the next morning bruised all over'. She got… well, these guys raped her. And before you know it, people managed to identfy the guys in the photo, and it turned out they weren't only Tau guys, but _officers_. Go figure, right? Obviously, she tries to get them kicked out of Tau, expelled from MGU, and charged with sexual assault.”

“As she should!” Daveed scoffs.

“Unfortunately, when you’re basically the face of one of the biggest sororities on campus, you’re not really supposed to… do that, _especially_ when it involves members of your brother frat. Literally days after she'd been assaulted, she's kicked out of Kappa Nu Nu, and they and the Taus tried to cover up the entire. Aggie saw what was happening to her best friend, spoke up, and got booted too.”

“Ah. I'm starting to put the pieces together. Also, that’s fucking _awful_.”

“Yup," Yonatan agrees, grimacing. "At that point, Philippa was already traumatized and now exhausted from trying to get something done about all this, so Aggie stepped in to help. She made a huge fuss, by that point not just wanting the _rapists_ punished, but both Kappa _and_ Tau as a _whole_ for how they’d treated her and Philippa. But the frats give a lot of money to the university, and having a sizeable Greek life presence on campus is a big draw for considering students; on the other hand, having a Greek life with a now-widely-acknowledged rape culture is not great for publicity. The university tried to get Aggie and Philippa to calm down. They expelled the two guys as a "compromise", but wouldn’t do anything about Kappa and Tau.”

“Please tell me that wasn’t your dad’s decision,” Daveed tries, cautiously hopeful.

Yonatan winces. “Ugh, no, I can’t tell you that. I tried to talk to him about it at the time, but he doesn’t really... like me to get involved in his work.”

“Fucker."

“I dunno," Yonatan sighs. "I mean, he's right that he's been doing this job for a long time, but... I dunno, topic for another time. Anyways, Aggie still wasn’t satisfied, for good reason, and I guess Philippa wasn’t either, ‘cause, obviously, they ended up running for student government. Aggie took president, though I’m not sure why. Maybe Philippa didn’t want that much responsibility anymore, or maybe Aggie was just more well-known at that point. Either way, their campaign really resonated with people, and they won in a landslide.”

“Did you vote for them?” Daveed asks curiously.

“Yeah, of course. They had a lot of good policies. It wasn’t just the stuff with the frats, but they did put an emphasis on sexual violence prevention and punishment for perpetrators. Then, in their new positions of authority, Aggie and Philippa were able to take the issue to the board of directors and get both Kappa and Tau permanently banned from campus.”

Daveed finally perks up at that. “Oh shit, good for them!”

“Yeah, people were pretty thrilled. Luckily the chair of the board, Shmu’el Levinsky, is usually a reasonable guy," Yonatan explains, his thoughts starting to wander. "He’s come over for dinner a few times. He's on the Hillel board too, though I rarely see him around. His kids are kinda shitheads, though. They were teens when I was a kid, when my dad was just working in admin at the business school, and they would always try to mess with me and Michal. One of them even asked Merav out when she was sixteen, and he was like, thirty?" He scowls, remembering how scared she'd been at the time. At only ten, he hadn't understood exactly what had happened, only that his big sister was very upset. "Honestly, I have no idea what they’re up to now. I just know that they suck.”

“Yonati, dove, as much as I love the background information...” Daveed prompts gently.

“Shit, sorry, where was I? Yeah, so Kappa and Tau don’t exist anymore, which is good. But most of the members were allowed to join various other frats, which means a lot of MGU’s Greek life population really hates—or, I guess, hated—Aggie’s guts. Philippa’s, too. The guys who assaulted her—they were really popular, and when they got expelled, certain people were especially pissed off; it's only been about four months, so I'm guessing they still are. But, uh… yeah. That’s basically it.”

“Wait, so…” Daveed bites his lip, thinking. “You’re saying that the woman who died this morning—whose closest friend, along with a good chunk of campus, apparently, thinks there’s _no way_ she killed herself—has enemies that are capable of, at the very least, casual gang-rape?”

“Um... yeah, I guess I am. Wait, are you saying—”

“That I think one of the former Taus—or Kappas, women can be murderers too—killed Aggie?” Daveed asks, somewhat rhetorically. “Well, I’m not _not_ saying that.”

“HaShem protect us,” Yonatan grimaces. “I guess that’s not out of the realm of possibility, but… shit. That’s kinda scary.” He sighs. “I don’t know, Dodi, I try not to think about all this too much. What happened to Philippa was so awful, and I know my dad should've done more, but I just..." he trails off.

Daveed reaches over, taking his hand. “You know it’s not your fault, Yonati. Like you said, you tried to talk to him, and he blew you off. You did what you could.”

“Yeah, I know,” Yonatan says. He sighs, closing his eyes. “I just wish there was something more I could’ve done.”

Daveed hums, thinking. “Hey, here’s a wild idea…” he muses.

“Mhm?” Yonatan responds after a second. Despite the feeling of residual guilt in the pit of his stomach, telling the story had exhausted him enough that he's starting to drift off, the sun is warm on his face and his finger's carding through his beloved's hair.

“What if we helped organize something? Maybe a protest, to get the police to actually investigate and not just blow this off?”

“Sure, that—wait, what?” Yonatan jolts awake, propping himself up on his elbows to stare down at Daveed. “After all that shit I just told, you want to get involved!?”

Daveed shrugs sheepishly. “I kinda tend to ‘get involved’ in things, to be honest,” he admits. “Drives my ma up the wall, especially when I used to get detention for staging a walkout or whatever and couldn’t help out around the house as much. But as long as I keep my grades up, she and Pops let me be, for the most part.”

Yonatan raises his eyebrows. “Walkouts, huh? Most I ever rebelled in school was sitting down during the pledge.”

“What a badass,” Daveed teases, grinning. He flips over, crawling up to give Yonatan a kiss. Yonatan cups the back of his head, their lips moving slow and gentle.

“You _did_ say you wish you could’ve helped,” Daveed says between kisses, pressing back in to stifle Yonatan’s protests.

“But… why do you want to, exactly?” he says, minutes later. “You just got here, and you didn’t even know Aggie.”

Daveed sighs, sitting back. “Like I said, it’s just… who I am. I can’t just stand on the sidelines waiting for justice to be served. And I have a gut feeling that there’s something bigger going on here than we realize. Maybe even bigger than the Taus.”

“But don’t you think there might be someone better suited to solving this _particular_ issue?” Yonatan protests. “Hell, Philippa already said she’s working on it.”

Daveed's face scrunches—adorably—as he thinks. “Obviously she should be at the head, but… from what you said, it seems like Aggie kind of ended up taking the reins last spring. Philippa has an impressive resume, but she's probably never planned a protest before. She needs someone with that type of experience. And anyways, two heads are always better than one, right?"

“... you're not wrong. And it sounds like you have 'that type of experience', too,” Yonatan admits.

Daveed nods. “I got involved with some... stuff, while I was in Israel, too. Protests against police brutality, human rights violations, issues like that.”

Yonatan laughs, the sound startled out of him. “Really?! Wow, you made it sound like you were just running around at parties, hooking up with people. No wonder poor Eliav was worried.”

“To be fair, I did all that too. Activists are really good in bed, I’ve gotta say," Daveed tells him with a wink.

“Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of activist too? We might have to test that theory,” Yonatan teases, nuzzling his nose against Daveed’s cheek. Daveed giggles.

“I’m not too shabby, if I do say so myself.” He leans in closer, lips to Yonatan’s ear. “There’s a drugstore on the way back to your place. We can pick up some _supplies_ after our classes.”

Yonatan feels heat flare in his gut, edging out the remaining guilt. “Mhm,” he murmurs, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “What were we talking about, again?”

“How I’m gonna blow your mind tonight?”

“ _God_ , babe," he groans. "Seriously, though, before that. You really want to get involved with this mess?”

Daveed nods slowly. “It sounds like Aggie was really trying to do some good for the students here. And now she’s _dead_. And I might be able to help.”

Yonatan can’t help but lean in and kiss him again. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs against his lips. “My beloved.”

Daveed smiles in delight. “You sure you’re ok with this, though? I don’t want to cause you _too_ much anxiety, and—we’re a team now.”

“If this is important to you, it’s important to me,” Yonatan reassures him, ignoring the already-present twinge of anxiety in his chest. “And it sounds like it’s pretty important to you.”

“Thank you, dove." Daveed breathes a sigh of relief. "I guess I’ll message Philippa, then?” Yonatan nods, and Daveed studies his phone for a minute, tapping out a quick message on in her Twitter DMs. He leans into Yonatan’s side when he’s done, resting his head on his shoulder. “I should probably get a social media campaign started,” he muses. “At least I’m pretty plugged in to MGU Twitter.”

“Really? Already?”

Daveed shrugs. “Most people follow back. And Yoav is pretty well connected with his frat stuff—he’s in a Black Jewish frat, so they're at least a few steps above the rest, thank God—and he got a bunch of guys to follow me over the summer. Honestly, I knew it would probably come in handy at some point, though not necessarily this soon.”

Yonatan thinks for a moment. “Yoav is your nephew, right?”

“More or less, yeah. His mom Tzruya is technically my cousin, but Pops took her in when she got pregnant as a teenager and her dad—my dad's brother—kicked her out. He treats her like his daughter, and she refers to him as her dad,” Daveed explains. “But honestly, she was more like a mom to me than anything. Her oldest, Avishai, was already twelve when I was born, and Yoav is only a couple years older than me. Her youngest, Asa, is around my age too. He's sixteen now, I think?"

Yonatan shakes his head. “Love, I think you need to make me a chart or something. I don’t know if I’ll be able to remember how your family works otherwise.”

“It’s alright. I have trouble remembering most of the time anyways,” Daveed laughs. “Actually, a chart isn’t a bad idea! Maybe I can finally learn how old all my nieces and nephews are.” He sprawls back on the grass, still laughing. “I think I’m up to… fourteen, now? Counting Tzru’s kids.”

“Damn, that’s a lot!" Yonatan exclaims.

“Ugh, and the worst part is I’m younger than some of them,” Daveed groans. “At least I can still pull rank on Asa. All the other kids live too far away for me to boss around.”

Yonatan lays back next to Daveed, lazily stretching his arms above his head. “I can’t even imagine. There’s always just been the five of us, plus mom and dad, and Merav’s only twenty-seven now. She’s just barely finished her PhD, I can’t imagine she wants kids yet.”

Daveed looks over at him curiously. “You haven’t asked her?”

“Mmm… not exactly. We were never really close,” Yonatan admits sadly. “I was always dad’s ‘favorite’, _heavy_ air quotes, and he's never really… payed much attention to Merav. Even before I was born.” Driving this wedge between them is one of the things Yonatan has always most resented his dad for. “At least she got Michal not long after me. They’ve always been thick as thieves.”

“That’s good. I’m glad they have each other. Hey, speak of the devil!” Daveed goes from reclining to standing so quickly it makes Yonatan’s joints hurt just to see. He waves Michal and Avigayil over as they exit the science building. They trudge over, looking worse for wear after an hour and a half lecture, though Yonatan is sure neither of them, nor anyone in the class, was able to pay much attention to what the professor was saying.

Without even saying hello, Avi walks straight up to Daveed, leaning in close to stare him down. “I hear you’re working with Philippa Stone.”

He just blinks at her. “How—never mind. At least I know she’s well connected.” He glances down at his phone, the screen still blank. “Weird… she hasn’t replied to my DM, but she’s already talking about me?”

Avi crosses her arms as Yonatan climbs to his feet, setting himself behind Daveed. “You really don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you?”

“Enlighten me,” Daveed shoots back, matching her posture.

Behind Avigayil’s back, Michal quirks an eyebrow at her brother, who in response tries to convey both “I’ll tell you later” and “I have no idea” without attracting Avi’s attention. He feels at least moderately successful, as Michal just rolls her eyes and remains silent.

Avi stares harder. “She’s not just talking about you, Hudson. She’s checking up on you. Look, what time did you message her?”

“Uh… like, 12:45?”

She holds up her phone. “I got a text from her at 12:53. It took her less than 10 minutes to figure out we’re best friends—”

“Aww, we’re best friends?” Daveed smirks.

“And you literally just got to MGU,” Avi finishes, ignoring his comment. “I don’t even follow you on Twitter. And she didn’t talk to Yoav, I asked him. She’s not just connected, she’s everywhere.”

Yonatan is starting to get a bit worried, but Daveed looks perfectly unconcerned. “Wow. I have to say, this is actually kind of flattering. She wouldn’t be putting this much work in if she didn’t think I had potential.”

“Daveed, that’s not the point,” Avi huffs. “You realize her last partner just died, right? I would hope so, since that’s what this whole clusterfuck is about. You’re trying to take a position literally vacated this morning. By suicide.”

“Jeez, Avi, you could be a little more sensitive," Daveed tells her. "Anyways, it’s not like I’m trying to replace her." Yonatan actually sees Avigayil’s nostrils flare.

“Daveed Efrath Hudson, I—” They all stop as Daveed’s phone starts buzzing , notifying him of an incoming call.

Avi lunges forward but Daveed is quicker, pressing the green button and lifting the phone to his ear. “Hello? Yeah, that's me. Oh Philippa, hi. It’s really great to hear from you. I just wanna say first off, I’m so, so sorry for your loss. Of course. Oh, today? I finish class just before four o'clock, does that work?”

Avi violently shakes her head, but Daveed just turns, looking up at Yonatan. He bites his lip. “Is it alright if I bring a friend? Yonatan. Yes, precisely. No, I know, but I trust him. Yeah, in fact, we are. Yes. One hundred percent. Good, thank you. That's perfect. See you then. Bye.” He hangs up.

The group is silent for a moment, before Avi sighs and says, “I really hate you sometimes.”

Daveed rolls his eyes, just for Yonatan to see. “Love you too, Av.” He turns back around to face her. “I don’t know why you’re so concerned. We’re just getting coffee. And I’m bringing Yonatan along.”

Sidling up beside Avigayil, Michal raises a hand. “Can someone please explain what’s going on?”

Avigayil and Daveed say nothing, continuing to glare at each other.

“Um, the best-friend-slash-former-vice-president of the girl who ki—who died is trying to get the police to investigate her death, and Daveed offered to help, but Avigayil thinks it’s a bad idea because... for some reason,” Yonatan offers.

“Some reason?” Avigayil repeats incredulously. “How about, ‘because Philippa has most of the school wrapped around her little finger and could screw you over on a whim? Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she killed Aggie herself.”

Yonatan’s mouth drops open, and he unconsciously wraps a protective arm around Daveed. He leans into the touch, but Yonatan can feel the tension in his shoulders. “You can't really think—”

“Seriously, Avi?” Daveed cuts in angrily. “The woman was just assaulted earlier this year, lost her best friend _this morning_ , and now you're trying to accuse her of _murder_? For _God's_ sake, you debate kids are always jumping to the worst case scenario. You want a few minutes to figure out how this is gonna lead to nuclear warfare?" he snarks.

Avigayil’s mouth draws into a thin line, eyebrows narrowed. “Fine. Don't listen. But you better not come running to me for help when you find yourself in over your head.” She turns on her heel and storms off, moving much less gracefully than normal. The trio watch her go, the hem of her coat fluttering behind her.

“Well, this is shaping up to be an interesting semester,” Daveed says, trying for casual.

Yonatan’s eyes are still on Avigayil, her figure growing smaller and smaller. “You don’t think there’s something to what she said, do you?” he asks nervously. "It seems awful that she'd say that about Philippa, but..."

“She did seem pretty worked up,” Michal adds. “But you know her way better than we do, Daveed.”

“I’ve never seen her quite like this, but I...” He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. We’re just gonna talk over coffees, give our condolences, see what she has to say. No big deal, no commitment.” He looks up at Yonatan, smile wavering. “You’ll come, right? I kind of volunteered you, sorry, I’m working on that.”

Yonatan returns the smile, his expression steadfast. “Anything for you, darling. And we’ll still have plenty of time to pick up, umm, supplies, after.” He gently strokes the nape of Daveed’s neck, Daveed leaning in to the touch.

“Ughhh,” Michal groans. “Between the pet names and thinly veiled foreplay, I’m starting to consider revoking my support of your relationship.” The boys just laugh as she pretends to gag.

Yonatan leans down to press a kiss to the top of Daveed’s head. “I’ve gotta get to stats. You’ve got music theory at 2, right?”

Daveed nods, raising up on his tip-toes to kiss Yonatan’s cheek. “Meet me outside the fine arts building at 3:45, ok? We can head to the cafe from there.”

“Sounds perfect, Dodi. Michal, you…” Yonatan trails off as he realizes his sister is gone, the two of them too caught up in each other to realize she’d left. “Never mind, I guess.”

Daveed snickers. “I think Michal might be too cool for us.”

“Oh, I can guarantee she is.” They kiss one more more time before parting, Daveed jogging off to the fine arts building. Yonatan watches him go, then heads back into the science building. In his head, he's already figuring out whose notes he can ask to take a picture of after class. He doesn't think he's going to be able to pay much attention to today's statistics lecture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uhhhh part of this chapter is somewhat based on actual stuff from Sefer Shmu'el, buuuuut if I told you what it was that would spoil basically the whole thing. I mean, it might be obvious enough to figure out,idk. If you think you know, KEEP IT TO YOURSELF but also if you can hint at it in the comments without revealing anything then idk I'll love you a lot :)
> 
> Yes, I really made fake tweets for this chapter. Philippa's profile picture was made using this picrew: https://picrew.me/image_maker/332600  
> Am I gonna come up with an excuse to include more tweets just so I can come up with display names and handles for all the characters? It's more likely that you'd think!
> 
> Michal, every goddamn day: Are you serious? In front of my salad?


End file.
